


Look in the Mirror and What Do You Find? A Lie, A Lie, A Lie

by dark_and_spooky (JamieisClassic)



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Biting, Breeding, Daddy Kink, Impregnation, M/M, Marking, Parent/Child Incest, Pregnancy, Rough Sex, Sort Of, Trans Male Character, Wrynncest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:01:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25416592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamieisClassic/pseuds/dark_and_spooky
Summary: Anduin works out the hard facts of who his biological father is, and isn’t, and confronts Varian about it. When Varian confirms that he isn’t really his father, Anduin offers to give him an heir if he can’t be one.
Relationships: Anduin Wrynn/Varian Wrynn
Comments: 5
Kudos: 46
Collections: Wasn't Quite Expecting This (But I Loved It)





	Look in the Mirror and What Do You Find? A Lie, A Lie, A Lie

**Author's Note:**

> to the people responsible for this, you know who you are and thanks for introducing me to this ship I guess.

There had always been rumors, Anduin knew, about whether he was truly his father’s son. His father had tried his level best to shield him from them, of course, like he tried to shield him from everything, but they made their way to his ears nonetheless. A younger version of himself had ignored them, chalked them up to jealousy or prissy nobles, but as he grew older he started to think there might just be a viability to them after all. 

Anduin’s face had been soft as a boy, his cornsilk hair and blue eyes the same vibrant shades as his mother’s, and his bones yet to mature into the sharp lines and strong jaw of his father’s. However, the older he got, the more his face grew drawn and angular in a way his father’s was not — his jaw thinner and chin longer, nose taller and less hooked, cheekbones higher and more pronounced, brow gentler and less glowering. And for all he wished to see many of these features in his mother’s portrait, they were absent there as well despite how familiar they felt.

It wasn’t until the second invasion of the Burning Legion, when his father was grievously injured and Anduin manipulated his way into being permitted to work at the Netherlight Cathedral, did it strike him exactly where that familiarity came from. Calia’s smile was warm and welcoming, but it was the dimple on one cheek, a dimple he shared, that caught his attention. Her brother, Arthas, had been one of his father’s…  _ Varian’s _ closest friends as a young man before he fell to the insanity of the Scourge and rose as the Lich King. Arthas, who likely had the same single dimpled cheek when he smiled, the same straight nose and delicate brow, the same long chin and narrower jaw. Arthas, who’s hair likely had curled the way Calia’s had the one evening Anduin had taken her out for a drink and they’d been caught in the rain on their way back to Greyfang Enclave — like Anduin’s had that night as well. Calia hadn’t commented on the way his ponytail had spiraled into loose ringlets, as it always did if he didn’t brush it through with the enchanted brush his Aunt had given him years ago to help his hair dry faster, but she did draw his hood up over it and give him a tense, knowing smile. 

Which is all to say that when Anduin returned to Stormwind, the Legion assault broken and Azeroth returned to peace once again, he found himself feeling at odds with the idea of returning to his title. At the Cathedral, he’d been little more than a member of the priesthood, a close disciple of Velen’s and an aid to him in his troubled state after the events with Rakeesh. But here, in Stormwind, he was  _ Crown Prince _ Anduin, heir apparent to the throne of Stormwind, and he couldn’t help feeling like a fraud. 

Not wishing to draw conclusions where there wasn’t adequate evidence, though, Anduin spent time researching the passing of traits from parent to child, and the rarity of certain traits. Much of what he found was speculative, or seemed downright inaccurate, but eventually he came across a text that held up to skepticism and was from a reputable source. And there, he found what he was looking for. 

_ Curly hair: Dominant trait _

Well, that was it wasn’t it? As a boy, his fa-...  _ Varian _ had insisted that he keep his hair cropped short, and it wasn’t until recently that he’d begun truly growing it out in some strange act of rebellion. When it had started nearing chin length he’d noticed a slight curling to the edges, and almost simultaneously had forgotten the fact when his Aunt Jaina had gifted him a fancy, enchanted hairbrush that produced heat and air to help the hair dry faster. 

“I know how long it can take for blond hair to dry, my dear, this should help,” she’d said, and yet he’d never noticed her have one herself. In fact, he remembered quite distinctly her spending hours around her rooms in Theramore with a towel on her head while her hair dried and complaining about how heavy it was the whole time.  _ She knew _ , he realized abruptly, and was briefly furious with her for not telling him before dismissing said anger. Of course she’d remained quiet, not only did his… Varian clearly wish it to remain a secret, but she had been in love with Arthas herself and speaking about him likely caused her pain. 

Hells, was it possible she was his  _ mother? _ He shook his head, dismissing the idea. There were plenty of accounts of Tiffin’s pregnancy and his birth, thus it was far more likely that Arthas had sired him with her than given her an infant bastard to raise as her own. 

That thought drew him up short.  _ Why? _ Everything he knew told him that Varian loved Tiffin more than life itself, so much so he was unwilling to remarry even for the express purpose of producing more heirs, despite having his and his sole heir’s lives threatened on multiple occasions. In fact, that level of dedication, of exclusive and undying love, implied that if  _ Varian _ knew of Anduin’s state as a bastard, as the result of his mother’s infidelity, he should have been furious. Yet Varian had coddled him and treated him like a precious thing, as well as shown more than ample evidence of knowing of Anduin’s status as a less-than-valid heir. 

With a sigh, Anduin rubbed his temples. Try as he might, he just couldn’t wrap his head around Varian’s actions, though if he was being honest the man had always seemed a bit of a mystery to him. He spoke of love above all else, but also the necessity for hardness. He berated Anduin for shying away from his duties as heir apparent, but coddled him and spoiled him rotten. He loved him deeply and unconditionally, showing on multiple occasions that he’d rather die than watch him suffer, and yet was so very clearly not his real father. Why, then? 

With that question in mind, he sought out Varian. 

  
  


He hadn’t realized how late he’d been in the library until he was knocking on the door to the royal chambers, and the guard was looking at him curiously, but he was a prince and he didn’t need to explain his actions to the people he served and ruled, nor did he have the mind to care that it was late. A moment later Varian opened the door, dressed down to a simple tunic and trousers, hair loose around his shoulders though mussed like he’d been running his hands through it.

“Is there something you need, my son?” And try as he might not to flinch at those words, evidently he wasn’t as successful as he’d hoped because Varian’s eyes widened and he motioned him in, “Please come in, Anduin.”

Varian led him to the sitting area near the hearth in the receiving room, stopping to pour two glasses of whiskey from a decanter before joining him by the fire. As he handed Anduin one of the glasses, he sighed, “I have a feeling I know what this is about and I’d hoped to speak with you about it in due time but…” 

“But you need me to start just in case it isn’t what you think?” Anduin finished, and Varian nodded, taking a seat on the large leather armchair next to the settee Anduin had perched himself on. “Fair enough, I suppose. You’re not my father.”

He tried not to make it too much of an accusation, but the words came out sharp and Varian flinched, “I raised you, you’re still my boy.” 

“But you’re not the one who made me, right? My real father is Arthas Menethil?”

Varian took a long drink. “You shine like he did, too. The older you’ve gotten the more you remind me of him. Well, before he… you know,” he trailed off, staring into the fire, and Anduin could swear he saw the gleam of tears in his eyes, “I’m sure you have questions, ask.”

“Why?” When Varian raised an eyebrow he specified, “Why raise me as your own when I’m a bastard?”

That made him growl, “You’re  _ not _ a bastard, don’t ever think of yourself like that. As for why… I’m not, well, inclined the correct way to successfully lay with the wife I was married to. I loved her, so deeply it ached, but not that way. Not sexually. Arthas was someone I cared for, someone I loved as much as I trusted him, which was infinitely. I asked him to help me have a child, to bed Tiffin in my stead and hope his features didn’t show too strongly in the child. When you were young, soft-face and demure-looking like your mother it wasn’t a worry. As you grew older, and especially when you started taking those potions… then it was less deniable. You’ve grown into a beautiful young man, Anduin, a very beautiful young man.”

Anduin could swear there was a hint of longing in the way he spoke of Arthas, and he wondered briefly if  _ that _ love had been something sexual, if Varian had been  _ in love _ with his friend rather than just loving him. He also wondered how much of this would have been averted had he not taken his Testosterone potions, if he’d foregone that like he’d been encouraged to instead of stubbornly insisting that he wanted to look more masculine. 

He was happy now, with the way he looked and had matured, and didn’t regret or wish to undo in anyway having taken them, but he wondered nonetheless. In some way he doubted it would have made that much difference, having spent enough time with Calia and seen all the ways her face was nothing at all like Tiffin’s, but the thought lingered. 

“Do you blame me for taking them? The potions, I mean,” Anduin asked, and Varian just gave him a smile.

“Not in the least. They made you happy, they made you feel like yourself, and that’s all that mattered to me… Matters to me,” Varian replied, that same fond smile on his face that made Anduin think Varian saw him as something akin to the sun. He’d worn the expression before, many times, but only now was Anduin starting to question exactly what the nature of that fondness was. Most disturbing of all, the idea that it might be motivated by something other than fatherly affection was less-than-disgusting. In fact, he was mildly horrified to realize he almost wished for it to be so. 

“You know I stopped taking them a little while back, right? In anticipation of looking for a suitor?” Anduin asked, trying not to get his hopes up at Varian’s grimace when he mentioned suitors. 

“I knew you were anticipating looking for a husband but I wasn’t aware you’d stopped your potions. I also don’t see why they have anything to do with each other,” the statement rose in tone at the end, making it sound more like a question, and Anduin smirked.

“Testosterone interrupts the menstrual cycle, it's much harder to get pregnant when you’re on it,” he explained, “And I’ve been planning on having children, see.”

Varian looked away suddenly, busying himself with his drink. Was that a slight flush on his cheeks? In the dimness of the room Anduin couldn’t be sure, but he could hope. And hope he did, because what he was quickly realizing he wanted would take a lot of courage to approach and hope was the only thing that fueled it. 

“Varian… if I’m not your son that means that you are the last of your line, right?” Anduin asked softly, taking a sip of his own drink. 

He sighed, “That’s irrelevant, you’re named heir and will carry the line in spirit even if not in blood.”

“But do you want an heir? A child of your own blood?” Anduin tried to be careful with his words, not wanting to scare Varian off, “I mean hypothetically, of course.”

“It… was something a younger me wanted, but it’s a hope I gave up on after weeks of failing to bed Tiffin. Sometimes, even wanting the result of something badly enough doesn’t enable us to go through with the thing itself,” Varian knocked back the rest of his drink and stood to refill it. 

Anduin stood as well, depositing his half-finished glass on the coffee table, and caught Varian’s arm, “What if you could have one without hating the means? You’re not attracted to women, but men interest you right?”

Turning to face him, Varian sighed, “Yes, hypothetically if I could sire an heir with a man I would want one. But that’s not…” 

Varian trailed off, looking at Anduin with his brows furrowed. Anduin stepped tentatively into his space, reaching out a hand to place above his heart, “Do you want a real heir, Varian? One of your own blood?” 

And then Varian seemed to realize exactly what Anduin was asking — and offering — and he took a step back suddenly, “Anduin, you’re like a son to me. You’re my boy. You-”

“Remind you more and more of the man you were in love with and could never have?” he asked, perhaps a little cruelly, but he was certain now that they both wanted this, however forbidden it was. 

Closing his eyes and breathing out a harsh breath through his nose, Varian turned on his heel and simply ordered, “Come,” as he made his way to his bedchambers, depositing his empty glass on the liquor table as he went.

A combination of nerves and anticipation dancing in his stomach, Anduin followed his tense posture and sharp footfalls to the bedroom, and found himself unceremoniously pressed to the wall the minute he passed through the door. Varian’s hands were harsh on his hips, grip bruising, and it lit a fire in him so hot he felt feverish. Leaning down, Varian dragged his teeth down Anduin’s neck and pulled the skin into his mouth with enough force to bruise, “You’re my boy, Anduin, mine. I was so furious with Genn for suggesting I find you a husband, for suggesting I marry you off. You don’t need anyone, just me. Only me. You’re  _ mine. _ ”

Anduin shivered. It felt right, so right, to hear him say that. To say what they’d both felt growing for some time, to voice that need to protect and keep that had always been more than reasonable for a father and son, to speak, finally, words Anduin realized he’d been wanting to hear for as long as he’d been questioning whether the man was really his father. Maybe even before that, he realized too, but that thought would have to wait to be unpacked until he wasn’t occupied with Varian’s mouth on his skin and hands crawling under the waistband of his pants to paw at his ass. 

“Yours,” he agreed, voice pitched and breathy, “All yours. Only yours, daddy.” 

The word felt right — he was Varian’s boy, after all — like so much of it did, like so much of it probably (definitely) shouldn’t. But he couldn’t bring himself to care about what was right or proper when Varian was sliding to his knees in front of him to unlace his boots and remove them, then his pants and remove them as well. His underwear were peeled away from his skin, slick enough with his arousal that they clung to him, and then Varian was working two thick, sword-calloused fingers into him and tonguing at his cunt and the world was a blur of color and heat.

He bucked into Varian’s mouth, voice cracking over a moan when his fingers curled deliciously into his walls and his eyes closed blissfully at Anduin’s taste. Despite how little he’d been touched, Anduin already felt himself rapidly approaching orgasm against his will. Almost seeming to sense how close he already was, Varian’s fingers worked him faster and his lips closed over his cock, tongue flicking against him and digging under the hood delectably. Within moments, Anduin was coming hard, cunt clenching around the fingers inside him and legs shaking, but Varian didn’t stop, barely even slowing his ministrations even as Anduin shivered from oversensitivity. A new desire filled Anduin, and he wanted nothing more than to reduce Varian to the same state he’s just been reduced too, feeling something almost competitive come over him. 

Anduin pushed him away just a little, hands frantically trying to encourage him to change positions, overcome with a need to please him with his mouth, “Please, daddy please. I want you in my mouth, I want to taste you, feel you. Please, please.” 

But Varian’s grip tightened on him, holding him away, “Not tonight, my love, I… I’m not going to last long if you get on your knees for me and I’m not wasting my seed on your mouth tonight. When you’re full of an heir and I can’t fuck more into you, then I’ll let you choke yourself on my cock as much as you like, but not yet. Not tonight.” 

His cunt pulsed with that thought, that reminder of his goal tonight, that he was planning on having the Wrynn heir inside him, being Varian’s little consort. And he was filled with the desire suddenly to be nothing more than that, to lie in the king’s bed and please him every night, to let himself be taken and bred until a veritable litter of little heirs ran amok in the castle and pissed off all the nobles, until his body was exhausted with pregnancy and Varian used his mouth not his cunt for fear of knocking him up again. It was a heady thought, so forbidden by his sense of identity and status he’d never let himself have it before, but when it was Varian, this man who’d shown he knew how to care for and coddle him, somehow then the thought of being something so base as breeding stock was appealing.  _ A mate _ , he realized,  _ Lo’gosh’s mate.  _

The thought, or perhaps it was a realization, made him pliable and floaty-headed as Varian brought him to the bed and laid him down, grabbing a pillow to prop his hips up with and taking another long moment to slip his tongue and fingers in him to ensure he was loose. He drew back enough to reposition, then Anduin felt the hot head of his cock sliding between his lips before tugging against his entrance. As the head slipped in, finding no resistance after all of Varian’s efforts with his fingers and tongue, a pitiful whine escaped Anduin’s throat.

“Daddy,” his voice broke on the word as he was filled in a smooth thrust with the whole of Varian’s cock. He was huge, thick enough to press against every nerve in him at once, and when he took a grip on Anduin’s knees to hike them up to his chest, allowing him to grind in just a little farther, Anduin could tell he was pressing right up into his cervix and he could feel it in his ribs. Varian drew back his hips then snapped them forward, and the breath punched out of him when Varian thrust in so deep it ached. 

Even though it hurt, toeing the edge of what was actually pleasant, knowing Varian’s cock could get deep enough that his seed would be right where it needed to be had him yowling like a cat in heat for it. Anduin was sure between the air being forced from his lungs with each thrust and the building pressure in his hips that he was probably begging to be bred, but he didn’t have ears for the noise coming from himself. All he could focus on was the way that Varian growled against his neck, teeth biting and sucking marks into his pale skin until Anduin was sure he wore a collar of bruises. There were no words required, he realized, for the type of claim Varian was laying on his throat and womb and heart. 

As his thrusts grew erratic, Varian abandoned the grip he’d taken on Anduin’s thigh with one hand so he could rub over his cock in firm, measured strokes. The pressure building in him grew rapidly with the motion, until Anduin was voicelessly screaming through another orgasm, body pulsing around Varian’s cock and he, too, came hard, hips flush in and twitching head thrust against his cervix as his seed flowed into Anduin’s womb. The idea had him mewling all over again, and he already felt impatient anticipation for the next time he would be blessed this way, hoping it would be soon. 

Varian rested his forehead against Anduin’s with a breathy chuckle, “You’re divine, Anduin. Such a sweet boy, my good boy, my perfect boy.”

Anduin hummed, feeling more sated and calm than he ever had after sex, “Do you think it’ll take?” He brought a hand to his lower stomach, dreaming already about what it would feel like swollen with a child. 

“Perhaps,” Varian replied, finally pulling out of him making Anduin whine in disappointment, “But then again perhaps not. I suppose I’ll just have to fuck you full of my seed every day until we’re sure it’s taken.” 

He shivered at that, pressing up into the kiss Varian placed on the center of his chest, then drew him up to kiss his lips. With parted lips he tongued along the seam of Varian’s mouth, but the man only drew away, making Anduin pout.

“Keep kissing me like that and we’re both going to be up far later than is responsible. I’ll get a cloth to clean us up with, you rest. You can stay here the night if you like,” he pressed a chaste kiss to his lips then went off to find a cloth, presumably. 

Relaxed as he was, Anduin was half asleep by the time Varian returned with a damp cloth and only half registered being wiped down carefully and then repositioned in the bed before he was eventually joined by the large, warm body of his lover. In the bliss of his arms, Anduin fell asleep.

  
  


When he woke to the smell of hot food, the sun on his face from the open curtains, hot lips against his neck and a hard cock at his entrance, he took a moment of adjustment to relax again into Varian’s arms. “Almost thought last night was a dream,” he muttered sleepily, then rolled his hips down so that the head of Varian’s cock slipped inside, humming happily when it did.

Varian groaned behind him, teeth digging into his shoulder and hips bucking up into him. It took a bit of repositioning, but they found the right angle to spoon in so that each roll of his hips was a heavenly pressure against Anduin’s womb and the friction was just enough to bring them ever closer to that edge. Today, in the warm sunlight of midmorning with the sweet smell of pancakes wafting through the air, their coupling was gentle and unhurried, so unlike the animalistic needy rush of the night before, but for all that difference it was no less pleasurable. 

Pressing a soft line of kisses under his ear, Varian began to roll his hips just a little faster, laying his hand gently over Anduin’s lower stomach. The speed and pressure were perfect for Anduin, hurtling him toward release, and he brought one hand down to play with himself while twining the other with Varian’s fingers over the place he hoped would soon be growing round with a child. Varian’s breath against his neck made him shiver and he couldn’t help the needy whines that slipped from his throat every time that glorious cock ground against his cervix. 

“I love you,” he gasped, needing to voice the emotion as his orgasm started to swell over him like the tide, slow but strong, pushing and pulling him in heavy waves. 

Varian groaned, hips stuttering up into Anduin and filling him once again with his seed, “I love you, too, Anduin. I’ve always loved you. I always will.”

As they lay together, Varian cock still buried in him even as it grew soft, Anduin suddenly felt something shift in the room, like a new little prickle of something in the Light that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Had he been any less tuned into the Light perhaps he wouldn’t have noticed, but as it were the little spark of life just barely registered on the edges of his consciousness. When Varian stood to once again retrieve a cloth to clean him up with, Anduin subtly returned his hand to the space over his womb and allowed the Light to flow into him, sensing for life. 

Sure enough, within himself he felt a small spark of something — not quite life, not yet, but the hope of it, the potential. Trying not to grin, he took his hand away, unsure whether he wanted to tell Varian right away or wait until he’d milked a few more breeding sessions out of him. Either way, he knew that this was meant to be, that all the social impropriety of it was nothing in comparison to whatever cosmic force had brought him here, that while he could never truly be a Wrynn heir, he could bring one (or hopefully more) into the world. That, he felt, was exactly what he wanted and was meant to do, for right now at least. 

As he rolled onto his back and looked at Varian he couldn’t help the grin that spread on his lips, and when Varian smiled back strangely, head cocked in confusion, he knew he had to tell him, “I’m pregnant, I can feel it in the Light.”

Varian’s face was briefly shocked before settling into a grin of his own, and Anduin, for the first time in a very long time, was truly, deeply happy.


End file.
